


Honeymoon Suite, One King Bed, for Mr. and Mrs. Winger

by writerkenna



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Honeymoon, Post-Finale, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24143251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerkenna/pseuds/writerkenna
Summary: At the age of twenty-seven, Annie takes another try at staying in a hotel as Mrs. Winger. Only this time, it just so happens to be true.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 32
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

It took two years after Annie left for D.C the first time for her and Jeff to fall back to each other. 

It took ten weeks of shadowing both forensic biologists and intel examiners who all had twenty years or more in the FBI. And, sure, there was a good deal of coffee runs and keeping offices tidy, but, by the halfway point, those duties became outnumbered by the times she was given the chance to look over real life, major criminal evidence, to really dig into the world Greendale had let her breach. 

It took Annie seeing Jeff again on the ten days she spent at home between her internship and starting work as an assistant forensic examiner at Quantico. Britta, Jeff, and also the dean, inexplicably, picked her up from the airport. Annie felt struck, felt like a girl on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood with knee length skirts and lip gloss she bought from Claire’s again when Jeff appeared next to her at baggage claim, heavy barreled shoulders and his well structured body in one of those sweaters that strained against him.

But, Annie Edison was still only twenty-five, so she didn’t let herself be bowled over by the Winger Experience yet again. Instead, she made those ten days a great time of reunion. Abed took a break from whatever demeaning PA thing he was in the middle of, Shirley drove up, and Troy, while he was still floating aimlessly somewhere with the Reading Rainbow guy, Skyped in at one point. She lavished herself in being in the Greendale sphere again, soaked in as much time in her old apartment as she could, told Shirley all about her attempts at cooking in D.C, and gave Jeff all her love, in a strictly platonic sense. On her last day, when he alone drove her back to the airport, he held her tight to his chest for at least a minute. When he said he loved her, Annie knew how he meant it. So, she pulled him down to kiss his forehead, to sigh into his hair and memorize its scent, and tell him, ‘not yet’. 

It took a year and half of working everywhere but America. Annie started by doing desk work at the London embassy for a month or two while she learned Italian, then she set off as security for the ambassador in Rome. After that, she was jet setting and running embassies in Berlin, Budapest, Tel Aviv, Athens, and so many more she has to really think to list them all. She sent all the members of the study group horribly cheesy souvenirs from wherever she went. Jeff sent her back emails that were veiled love notes, and she archived them all.

It took Annie coming home, back to Colorado, to find out that Jeff waited for her, after all this time. He was not at Greendale College anymore (which, well, she was glad for, and about time!) since he’d passed the BAR and gotten into a good family law firm. But, in the metaphorical sense, he hadn’t moved. He was Jeff Winger, in prime form, waiting for Annie Edison to keep him that way. 

On Annie’s first night home, in his apartment since Britta moved out of the old place, they kissed. Six months later, he proposed to her. Annie said yes without a doubt, for the sake of those two years, which are hers alone.

And now, here they are, a little over twenty-four hours since their ‘I do’s’, at the same hotel from their canceled ski trip/ _Inspector SpaceTime_ convention, checking into the honeymoon suite.

“Here are your room keys, Mr. and Mrs. Winger,” the concierge says. Annie smiles at Jeff, her _husband_ (she hasn’t said that out loud yet, but it’s been ringing around her head constantly), and is glad to be, for real and true this time, Mrs. Winger. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the rush of comments and support! I have decided to continue, obviously! Please enjoy and review!

It had been sort of a running joke the whole time they were planning the wedding that they were going to honeymoon at the DoubleTree Denver. Jeff started it first, dogging Annie about her trial run as Mrs. Winger back when she was twenty-two and ridiculous. She had jumped on the bit, as either of them will do on most bits the other starts, and began to research suite rentals. Jeff is not sure when it became less of a joke and more a certainty, but, a month before the wedding, Annie was on the phone booking them spa treatments at the in house sauna and finding good restaurants around the hotel.

He offers to carry Annie over the threshold of their room; on the top floor, the most expensive room in a cheap hotel, but she laughs him off.

“Jeff, it’s a Doubletree,” she smirks and Jeff shrugs as he slides his room key and opens the door, a bit disappointed. He’s moved himself past his previous fantasy of idealized 1950's housewife Annie, but he does hold onto a few parts of it, such as still wanting to sweep his now wife off her feet, metaphorically and literally. 

“Oh,” he says, still in the doorway as Annie moves forward to plop her polka dot suitcase down on the bed, “well, this is . . .”

The room, despite its higher rank in price, is really not very nice for a honeymoon suite. There are roses on the pillows and tiny Andie’s mints, yeah, but the sheets don’t even look as high quality as theirs at home, the TV is three or four years out of date, and the living room area is furnished drably. 

“It’s wonderful,” Annie finishes for him, ever the optimist, which Jeff sometimes can’t believe, given her daily work in Denver’s grizzliest crimes. He presses his mouth into a flat smile and is uplifted by the fact that Annie told him their room has a jacuzzi bathtub, which they will  _ definitely _ make use of later. He watches Annie as she conducts her own room survey, switching pillows on couches, and feels undeniably lucky to be here, in a subpar chain hotel, but, with her. 

“Come here. I wanna kiss my wife,” Jeff hums and Annie does a jittery move of elation. 

“My husband,” she says when she bubbles over to him, her hand on his scruffy cheek, before she pushes up on her tiptoes to deliver him a warm kiss. Jeff keeps his arms around her waist and lets her dangle from his neck for a moment, falling deep into her baby doll blue eyes, until George Michael’s  _ Faith _ spews out behind them. He lets Annie drop out of his arms with a low groan.

“Annie, I swear, if you don’t change that, I’ll-”

“Sorry, sorry!” she laughs as she fishes her phone out of her purse, “Oh, it’s Abed.”

“He knows we're on our honeymoon, right? He does at least have the awareness to register that after, you know, attending our wedding?” 

Annie rolls her eyes and waves him off as she brings the phone up to her ear with a peppy, ‘hi!’ Her and Abed have this codependent streak going. Well, actually, the whole former study group does, but it seems to be especially serious with Annie and Abed. Something like that would normally spark his easily ignited jealousy, but their relationship, which developed in their time living together, is too brother-sister to get worried over. Or maybe even mother-son, at moments. Annie did tend to cook most of his meals, and make his bed, and make sure he got up for school on time. 

“...and, yes, I’ll have  _ Honeymoon in Vegas _ ready for the flight to London. Abed, Jeff doesn’t even gamble. Don’t worry. Okay, okay, I have to go and-yeah, I’ll let you know. Okay, bye, love you.” 

“He's okay?” Jeff asks and Annie nods.

“Yeah. He just found a Nick Cage movie he wants us to watch on our flight.”

This DoubleTree is luckily only the first stop of many. Annie planned it all, obviously, and it’s meant to be a retracing of some of her work abroad; stops in England, Germany, Italy, and Greece. Jeff has found some unapproved sleeping pills to knock him out on the plane. He’s never flown internationally before, and though it makes him embarrassed to say so, he’s fucking nervous about it. He hasn’t told Annie about this stress, so fingers crossed Cage, his drugs, and a heavy stream of rum and cokes will keep it all under control. 

Annie stands and flips her suitcase over. She unzips and starts to pull out stacks of neatly folded outfits and her toiletries bag. Jeff steps over his own scraped black suitcase to wrap himself around Annie’s back. Her hair is silky and parts smoothly as he nudges his nose into it. 

“Why are you unpacking for two days?” he asks. Annie smiles lightly and mumbles something about staying organized as Jeff lets a hand wander to tease under the edge of her sweater. He wants her right now. Though, that is not saying much, because he wants her most days, whenever she’s ready and raring to go, which probably comes from eight years of waiting for the unbridled experience of Annie’s boobs (not the monkey). But, it’s more now, now that he can call her his wife. He wants her because he knows that they’ve finally committed to this, no more waiting and no more pining, and he doesn’t have to panic every day Annie will wake up thinking he’s too old, or too sarcastic, or too unimpressive for her. Sex is more than just pleasure after she’s agreed to him, till death do they part; it’s a monument to that fact. 

“Jeff . . .” Annie huffs, in a middle ground of rempermanding and breathy. She presses her body back against Jeff and he grinds his hips into her back.

“The jacuzzi tub . . .” he trails and lets his head drop into the crevice of her neck. He rests his lips on her skin, barely there, and doesn’t nibble or kiss yet, waiting for the go ahead. Annie’s goosebumps rise up against his mouth and he can feel the unsteady rise of her breath with the hand he holds on her stomach.

Quickly, Annie does a twist out of Jeff’s grasp and lands herself by the nightstand, leaning against it with a flush that has reached down to her pale chest. Jeff, with arms that hang low with the absence of her, huffs his disappointment. Annie sucks in her lips, going almost devious as she flutters her eyes open and closed.

“We can do the . . . the tub later, okay? I was thinking, maybe, we could go down to the bar,” Annie says. Jeff quirks a brow. They have a minibar in the room and it's not like she even drinks that much. But he can’t deny Annie’s eyes have gone a catching shade of blue that makes him want to go wherever she wants him to. 

“The bar, huh?” he checks and Annie nods. 

“Meet me down there in ten?”

“Yeah,” Jeff says, and damn, she’s got him hot right now, he’ll play. He likes this game. Before she makes it to the door, she hovers down below him and stretches to let her lips meet his ear. He excites at her hot breath before she even says anything.

“Seduce me, Mr. Winger,” Annie murmurs and Jeff’s cock pulses against the zipper of his jeans. She used to think she was bad at dirty talk, was nervous to even attempt it when they were first together, but he hopes she knows now that’s not true. He hopes he can see how much her airy, tight voice can affect him.

“Yes, Mrs. Winger.”

Annie again delights, in a very Annie-ish squirm of her shoulders. She catches herself and Jeff huffs a laugh as she recalibrates her persona again; pouted lip, lowered eyelids, chest pulled forward.

“I’ll . . . see you soon,” she says in a deep voice, and struts out the door. Jeff groans a chuckle and fists his hands through his hair once she’s gone. 

He goes to check himself over before starting their game at the bar. They have always been into the whole roleplay thing, Annie more so than him. It’s the results of prolonged exposure to Abed’s world view, Jeff is sure. He used to scoff at playing characters and extended bits, but Annie has done a good job of proving it can be sufficiently sexy. Which is why he’s about to head down to a hotel bar and pretend to pick up his wife as though he’s never met her. 

“Fuck,” Jeff says to his own reflection. He’s still exhausted from the wedding rigmarole and his face shows it, creases deeper on his forehead and in the corners of his eyes. The age gap between him and Annie doesn’t get him as much as it once did, as the difference twenty-seven and forty-four is not that egregious or even that obvious to the public, but he can feel the days of her thriving in her mid-thirties while he cruises into fifty coming up ever sooner. Aggravated, Jeff flicks off the bathroom light and steps back out into the main section of the hotel room. 

Checking his watch, he decides to give Annie a few more minutes to prep her role before he goes down to her. He opens the minibar to assess it for the rest of their stay, seeing what he’ll have to buy on his own. An ice filled bucket with an actually pretty good bottle of champagne sits on top of it accompanied with a note reading  _ For the lovely new couple! _ He smirks to himself at the word ‘new’ and wonders if there are any staff holdovers from their last stay. In the bar, there is a variety of travel size liquor bottles. The scotch is mediocre quality. Maybe he’ll buy something better tonight after dinner, but he’s not sure it will be worth it for two nights. He is more excited for the champagne with Annie, which they will hopefully be popping in that jacuzzi tub, a feature of their stay he can’t seem to move past. 

After another minute of laying on the tempurpedic mattress and checking his Facebook feed, clogged with Britta’s half-assed social media activism as expected, Jeff thinks Annie is likely ready for him. He stands, opens his suitcase to fish out his cologne, and dabs his collar with it before he leaves the room.

Annie will have a fake name, probably, he hopes. She usually does. It’s damn hot. 


	3. Chapter 3

Annie has ordered herself a Sidecar as she waits for Jeff to seek her out. She personally has a hard time with grown up cocktails and, even now, still prefers things like Screwdrivers and Skinny Girl Strawberry Margaritas, but she’s trying to maintain a character here. 

She’s picked her name already, what she’ll murmur in her low voice when Jeff asks for it. Carmen Sternwood. It’s the name of her favorite character from her favorite mystery novel,  _ The Big Sleep _ . She’s just reread it again, for the seventh time in her life, and has been reminded of her great love for Carmen. Sure, she’s a murderer and ends up in an institution by the end of the book (which makes Annie worried about how much she connects with her), but she also takes charge of her life, uses her sexuality as a weapon, and is in general the definition of a femme fatale. Plus, Martha Vickers plays her in the movie, and Annie thinks she is a total bombshell.

Annie is running in her head how she’ll say the name when Jeff asks. He’ll just be Jeff. He never comes in with a fake name, but, that’s okay, she’s got enough backstory for the both of them. She’s whispering  _ Carmen _ , rasped and with a roll of her tongue, when someone takes the seat to her right. 

“Hey there,” says the guy and Annie tilts her head to look at him. He’s got the same sort of dopey, lackadaisical energy that Vaughn had, wearing a Jefferson Starship t-shirt with chestnut brown waves of hair hanging lazily around his face. She smiles in a tight manner, somehow already fed up with him. 

“Hello,” Annie presses. She turns back to her drink to stomach a sip, hoping he will read her disinterest. He doesn’t, just continues to eye her with a side-sloping grin. 

“I’m Mick,” he tells her, and, well, if anyone would be named Mick, it’s definitely a guy like this. Mick stares at Annie expectantly for her response, but she stays quiet, because saying her real name will break up the air of sultry charm she’s trying to radiate for Jeff’s arrival and she is not going to waste her practiced Carmen on ‘Mick’. He rebounds, “What are you drinking?”

“A Sidecar,” Annie says, staring in the murky orange of the cocktail. It’s really not her taste, though Carmen would love it. She’ll get a really fruity sangria at dinner to make up for it. 

“That sounds awesome,” Mick says, and then proceeds to order himself one. He tries to sip with confidence when it arrives, but Annie can tell he’s enjoying the taste of it about as much as she is hers. She laughs into her glass in a way that is Annie and not Carmen. She sighs. She needs to work harder.

“You have a really cool laugh,” Mick eases, and pulls his stool snugger to hers. Annie frowns. This guy won’t take a hint. She takes in a puff of air and tries to imagine how she’d deal with him if this really was film noir.

“So, ‘Mick’, what exactly are your intentions here?” Annie asks and thrills at how the words resonate from deep in her throat. 

“Huh?”

“Well, obviously you have some sort of adorable fascination with me. And I’m really very flattered, truly, but do you really expect to win me over like this?” she pauses, clinks her nails against her glass, and is glad for this moment actually. It’s like a warm up and she can feel herself letting  _ Carmen _ grab her reins and steer with this ridiculous stoner boy. She smacks her lips together, enjoying the feel of her own creamy lipstick, “Do you, Mick?”

Mick is leaned into her, watching her lips, and his breath hitches as she clicks her tongue around his name. 

“Holy shit, I don't . . .” he’s stammering now, looking confused and a little bit red across his cheeks, but Annie has already discarded him. Jeff is finally here for her, with his perfect amount of beard and muscles that pull his button up taut and, God, his  _ everything _ , to let her play off him. To rile her. She gives him her best enticement, lowering her eyelids like her lashes weigh ten pounds each. Jeff comes to stand in the space between her and Mick’s seats. 

“Sorry, hi, am I interrupting something here?” Jeff asks as looks at Mick with some aggressive  _ back the fuck off _ vibes. Annie digs her fingernails into the underside of her thigh. His jealousy never fails to get her feeling warm and weak. Mick begins to speak but Annie cuts him off.

“No, you’re not.” 

Mick huffs from somewhere behind Jeff and it seems he’s finally decided to stop being oblivious as he pushes to stand with a mumbled ‘nice meeting you’. Annie smiles and nods to him distantly, still trying to cool her flush from watching Jeff get all possessive over her. Once he’s gone, Jeff claims his seat and it feels like a move of dominance. 

“Carmen. Carmen Sternwood,” Annie offers with her hand out to him. Jeff considers the gesture for a second before he grabs her fingers and presses a kiss to the back of her palm.

“Jeff,” he says and his breath tingles against the spot he’s just kissed. Annie struggles not to giggle ridiculously, which he can always seem to bring out of her. He lets her hand go, and she holds the spot up to her own lips, “Was that guy bothering you, Ms. Sternwood?”

“Oh, he was just a bit lovesick. Poor thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you’re used to it. You know, men turning into idiots around you,” Jeff says. Sometimes, Annie doesn’t like to hear him like this, because it sounds so much like the old Jeff, the one who was womanzing Britta and could care less about her fragile, young heart, but, also, she gets why this worked on so many women. When he’s like this, all charisma and suaveness, she goes gooey with how wanted and beautiful he makes her feel. 

“My! You’re quite the charmer, Jeff,” she replies, and almost can’t look at him, fearing to fall into the ocean of his intent eyes and forget all about Carmen and the bar and the whole set-up. 

“What brings you here?” Jeff asks, fingers inching so they lie right at the bottom rim of her drink, so close. 

“Needed to get away. I . . . I’ve got some things I need to escape for a while.” Annie has no idea what those things are, but the explanation feels thoroughly right in the moment, “and you?”

“Business trip. I have a giant suite the company got me. Best one in the hotel.”

Again, Aninie can see Jeff in his early lawyering, bringing girls up to a large room for the night and then kicking them out the next morning. However, there is a rush to know that, even if he uses the same invitations he did on those women, she won’t be kicked out in the morning. She’s got this player, Jeff Winger, as much as she wants, so wrapped up in her he’ll come do this roleplaying thing. Though, she thinks that this act might not be getting only her all worked up. She takes the risk of looking at Jeff full on.

Annie is right. He’s getting just as turned on as she is. She’s seen him like this enough times to read the signs; the way he curls and uncurls his fingers against the dark wood of the bartop, his eyes narrow and focused on her lips, the way he keeps toying with his own mouth, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I . . . I hate to seem unladylike, but I think that I would like to see that suite. Give me a tour?” Annie says, all throaty because she loves the way Jeff’s breath stops when she does that voice. 

“Finish your drink and meet me in my room. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” Jeff mutters, up near her face. Annie wants him. She doesn’t know when this jittery, unstoppable desire they have for each other will fade- they’re nearing a year and half of sleeping together- but she’ll enjoy her never fading crush-like obsession with him while it’s here. 

Jeff stands, giving Annie one last look that almost makes her want to pull him into the lobby bathroom so he can tear off her sweater and ravish her without the wait, and heads towards the elevator. 

Once he’s gone, Annie presses a palm to the center of her chest. It’s burning hot. She stares at her drink, overly strong and odd tasting, and decides she’s played her bit well enough not to have to finish it. She signs the bill to the room and stands on stumbly feet. Carmen, Annie, or whoever she will be when she enters that room, needs to feel Jeff between her legs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXPLICIT content warning, which I think is to be expected after the last chapter ;)

It only takes Annie two minutes more than Jeff to get up to the room, but it’s too long for him. His pulse is in his neck and he is loosely palming himself through his jeans. It’s the voice she does, almost halfway to a moan and crackling with rasp, that drives him up the wall. She does it and his whole body feels it. See, that’s the problem with Annie, why she’s dangerous, she’s been around Jeff too long and now she knows all the ways to turn him on. 

When the door opens, Jeff is turned away from it and staring at the bed. The soft pad of Annie’s steps on the carpet gets closer and before he knows it, she’s up behind him so close all he can smell is her perfume, vanilla and fruit punch, from Victoria’s Secret. He turns to her once she taps his shoulder. She stares up at him as he places his palms on either side of her hips, wanting a good and steady lock on her body. Looking at her, looking at the way her cheeks burn red, he doesn’t think it’s Carmen who he wants right now.

“I . . . I’m gonna just call you Annie, okay?” Jeff says and Annie gives him a curt nod that seems more flattered than disappointed. He dips while he pulls her forward to make sure he can get to her lips as fast as possible. She falls open to him, tongue still twinged with alcohol. Jeff thinks of his jacuzzi tub plan and settles on it for later, because she tastes so ready and he’s deliriously hungry for her after their time at the bar. He doesn’t think he could stop touching her long enough to get a bath set up. 

He lowers to sit on the bed with the push of her body against him and they fall into place; him with his legs out in a wide v and her settled upon them, so that when she sits down on him, the tent in his pants is right up against the damp spot of her underwear. He cups his hands down between his thighs onto her ass and lets her feel what she does to him, what a minx she really is. She grins overtly as he does, the expression passing through to her shoulders, a little too pleased with herself, as usual. 

The grinding through clothes becomes not enough quickly and Jeff works a hand under the skirt of her dress to tug at her underwear. This is the reason why he misses her flouncy sundresses and is so happy that she’s pulled them back out of her closet for this trip. He’s sure everyone thinks he likes him so much because it reminds him of the Greendale years or that he’s got some weird preppy school girl fetish (maybe he does, if his love for teacher/student stuff is to go by, but it’s really only with her), but it's all about what he can do when she wears these dresses, how he can feel her so easily, without any troublesome layers or the confusing buttons on her work pants. Annie likes it, too, that he can get to touching her right away, if the little squeaks she’s emitting are anything to go off of as he presses his thumb firmly against her clit and drags down. 

“I . . . I was thinking about this. W-when you left . . . left the bar, I was thinking about y-you touching m-me!” Annie’s words peak into a high note as Jeff curls two fingers inside of her. He’s going faster than they usually do with foreplay but he needs her, in all the ways he can get, immediately. It’s everything; the bar, her Carmen voice, unfounded but vicious jealousy over that young idiot trying to hit on her, Jeff’s Annie, it’s making him wild with want. Not to mention the fact that this is their honeymoon, a trip that, for a long time, he’d never thought he’d see with anyone, especially not Annie. Her underwear are at her ankles with one more steady yank and he starts to pair the in and out of his fingers with the suction of his mouth on her neck. He wants to mark her, selfishly, to label her as his, forever and ever, to the Vaughnn types of the world. 

“I want to fuck you, Annie. God, fucking shit, I want to be in you so bad, You don’t even know, baby, you don’t . . .” Jeff trails, a rogue ‘baby’ slipping out, which he generally avoids. But, with her tight and dripping around his fingers, he can’t keep himself from forgetting his ban on pet names. Annie nods against him as she goes to work on the buttons of his shirt. He toes off his shoes and tries his best to undo his jeans one-handed. By the time he’s managed, Annie has finished his shirt and her dress and is doing the impatient whining moans she does when she’s sick of waiting for him. He fumbles his cock out and doesn’t even bother with getting his briefs off before lining his tip up with her pelvis. 

“Do you want me to-?” he asks before he slides in, flicking his eyes to his suitcase which holds his condoms.

“No, no, Jeff, just fuck me. Please, just-”

Jeff doesn’t need to be told twice and he rolls his hips into her, as greedy for this as ever. She groans and fists at her hair as he slowly eases all the way in. This is the second time in the span of this week he’s fucked Annie without protection, the first being their actual wedding night. She can’t do birth control because of her brain chemistry and general aversion to pills and she’s scared of any of the surgical implants, she’d explained to him at some point, so he’d settled himself to condoms. Though, she’s been the one to reject him wearing one these past two times. 

They both want kids. That was point one on Annie’s list of things to discuss after getting engaged. Jeff just hadn’t thought that the wanting would be actualized so soon, which is what he assumes she’s going for. He’s not sure how he feels about it, even though with him getting older and the fact that she has finally settled in her job enough to get time off it makes sense. He  _ is _ turned on by the idea of getting her pregnant on this trip, he realizes, though, as he keeps pumping himself into her and picturing this as a procreative mission.

After he becomes sweaty and too slow for Annie’s liking, which happens too fast now that he’s in his mid-forties (yikes), Annie shoves him into lying back on the bed and rides him, finally unstrapping and flinging away her bra as she does. Jeff catches his breath as she works him, lost somewhere in the midst of the simultaneous perfection of condom-less sex, the feeling of her body every time she drops down onto him, and the way her freed breasts bounce with each movement.

“Call me . . . call me Mrs. Winger, okay?” Annie asks, two minutes into her bobbing on him, and Jeff doesn’t comprehend at first, his brain still on vacation to his dick.

“Wha-wait, what do you want?”

Annie’s eyes flick away and she slows, just a bit. Jeff is hit with instant guilt (those damn Disney eyes) and groans up to rest on his elbows. 

“Is it stupid?” she mumbles. He shakes his head aggressively and sits up more to kiss her right in between her breasts.

“No,” Jeff whispers into the skin. Annie has stopped moving now, but it feels good, this moment, with him pulsing in her as everything is quiet, “I want to do it for you. I-yeah, I want to. It’s hot that you want that.”

“O-okay, I . . . I really want it, Jeff,” Annie says in a hushed tone, and Jeff is ready to give her whatever she wants anyways, so he puts his lips against her ear and says low and soft and deep, 

“Mrs. Winger.”

Annie shivers, which makes Jeff thrum all over. He gives her a slow thrust, as this moment is too shiny and tingling to ruin with abrupt force. 

“Is that okay, Mrs. Winger?” he murmurs and he can feel every bit of Annie clenching around him. He watches her reaction and finds her eyes held shut as she rocks forward a small bit. 

“Y-yes.” 

Jeff rubs the sides of his fingers between her lips and across her clit. Her head arches forward to his shoulder. He licks his lips, more worked up than he’d like to admit, and achingly slow, moves deep up into her again. 

“Mrs. Winger, I want to make you come.”

Annie hisses hot breath against his damp skin and it’s like he’s high with how good he feels from it. 

Jeff tries to stay slow for as long as he can, whispering to her whatever she wants, but he can’t keep himself from fucking her fast eventually. Annie comes before him, but not by much, to the sound of him huffing out ‘Mrs. Winger’ every two seconds. Jeff is awestruck, shell shocked, and immensely turned on that he’s brought her to climax through the sound of his own last name. 

“Okay,” he breathes, when they lay there sweaty and a mess after, “okay, so rate my husband skills, so far. Like average, above average, way way above average, or-”

Annie laughs into a pillow, which she promptly swings down onto Jeff’s face. He releases a small ‘hmph’. 

“You would ask that,” she turns to him, with a post sex glow coming off the highlights of her face, and shoves at his chest, “10/10, you ego maniac.”

“Awesome,” he hums and brings his arms together behind his head. 

They lay in their sweat for one more minute before Annie declares them gross and they take a mostly non-sexual shower together. The water pressure sucks, which Jeff thinks about mentioning, but decides not to pop the post-coital bubble. They towel off and Jeff puts on one of the hotel robes while Annie pulls one of her sexy pastel silk and lace ones she bought for the trip out of her suitcase.

“We have dinner reservations in an hour,” Annie informs him as she combs through her hair at the living room area mirror.

“Annieeee,” Jeff groans like a petulant child from his spot on the bed. He’s exhausted from sex and not that excited about whatever the hotel restaurant has to give them, even if Annie told him it has good Yelp ratings. 

“I guess we could do room service,” she sighs and Jeff frowns. She’s gone through all the trouble of planning every minute of this trip, he probably shouldn’t be disregarding her itinerary this early on. He pulls himself up with a groan, hit with the guilt trip she can send him on.

“We . . . we can go to the restaurant, whatever. I’ll get dressed, give me a minute.” He starts to swing his legs over the side of the bed when Annie stands and shakes her head.

“No, no, we can do the room service. It’s okay. I’m actually pretty tired, too,” she concedes. Jeff can’t tell if this is passive aggressive or just regular agreement, but he’ll take it anyway. He sighs back into a pillows with a mumbled ‘okay’. 

Annie orders fettuccine alfredo with bits of grilled chicken and Jeff gets a garlic butter steak and roasted broccoli that will pair well with scotch over large squares of ice. They eat in bed, staying in their robes the whole time, while Jeff scrolls through the fifty TV channels. 

“What do you want to watch?” he asks and Annie’s mouth twists in an adorable moment of thought. 

“We should order pay-per-view,” she suggests, so giddy that Jeff hands her the remote to pick for them. Annie lands on a very middle of the road rom-com,  _ Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, _ that stars the slightly attractive (in a snarky, extremely annoying way, though) Josh Duhamel and he can hardly focus on. Jeff gripes over her selection for only the opening montage and then settles on drinking three and half glasses of scotch, depleting a full mini-bottle, and resting his face into the curtain of Annie’s newly washed and slightly wavy hair, who seems to be, amazingly, getting something out of this ‘film’. He closes his eyes sometime past the halfway mark, still on Annie’s shoulder, and enters a middling sleep, dreaming vaguely of the joining of sperm and eggs and their happy results.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a link to the dress I describe Annie wearing to her wedding: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/812125745294388508/sent/
> 
> Please enjoy and leave a review!

Annie wakes up with the damp heat of Jeff’s arm around her waist and his head pressing down on her shoulder. She surveys herself through squinted eyes and finds she is still in her ridiculous robe from last night, though now falling open around her breast. She readjusts herself and Jeff groans off of her. Her phone tells her it’s seven am, which is the average waking hour for Annie and normally for Jeff, too, though she thinks his drinking will keep him sleeping for a bit. She stretches up and out of the bed and towards the bathroom. 

Annie has always dressed as soon as she gets up. She hates lying around in pajamas, makes her feel unclean and slimy, so she chooses the first of her pre planned outfits -slimfit jeans, a sky blue blouse that ends at her elbows, and ballet flats- washes her face, brushes her teeth, and recurls her hair before fixing it into a high ponytail. By the time she finishes her routine, Jeff is showing the first stirrings of waking and her phone dings with an email from their wedding photographer, subject line  _ Preliminary Unedited Photo Preview. _ With a wide beam, Annie clicks it open to find three pictures of their first dance. 

Annie’s dress, surprising no one, had been an absolutely gigantic princess ballgown. She had picked it out with Shirley on her second bridal appointment and purchased the smallest little tiara along with it to slide into her hair-she couldn’t resist. She had loved, and does love in these pictures, her dress, every inch of tulle and thread and organza, her fitted bodice, her layers of skirt. Her mother, who had never really been a confirmed yes for the wedding until the week of, had said that the dress had dwarfed her and she was way too tiny for it. When Annie looks at the smile she wore in the pictures, as Jeff dipped her and her left leg popped up with it, she realizes that even her mother’s insults couldn’t reach her that day. She, in her dress, in her crown, in the crook of Jeff’s arm, was untouchable. 

“That guy in the picture is a stud,” Jeff’s rumbly morning voice says behind her. He narrows his eyes at the phone as he zooms in on himself, zeroing in on the way his crow’s feet wrinkle deep when he smiles, “oh, fuck, have her delete that one. Or edit it. Extensively. On me. You look perfect already.”

Annie sighs and turns to shush him with a kiss. She pulls back to stare at him, to cup his face between her hands and really look at him, and she wonders how he can look at himself and see the wrinkles and not everything that is so gorgeous and wonderful and breath-catching. She presses one more kiss to him. 

“YOU look perfect,” Annie assures, “now, get dressed. We have our brunch reservation in town today. I was just about to wake you up. I know how long you take to get ready.”

Jeff mumbles a ‘shut up’ and pulls a black bag out of his suitcase which Annie is sure is filled with skin and hair care products totaling in the thousands. As the bathroom door shuts, Annie studies her three precious, unedited and imperfections abounding, perfect photos. 

The place she has for them is hipstery, but not too much, and is known for their donut holes and many varieties of eggs benedicts. When they sit down, Jeff immediately flags someone for a Bloody Mary. Annie thinks the amount he drinks, even if it's less than he used to, is still not healthy and still too frequent, but she holds her tongue with a weighty sigh. She might bring it up when they get home, throw in something about them starting a family to hook him. She sticks with apple juice. 

“Did you see Britta’s instagram today?” Annie asks as their donut holes -well, hers, mostly, Jeff won’t eat something that sugary- are placed in the center of the table. 

“No. I mostly avoid her on the internet, and sometimes in person, when possible.”

Annie kicks Jeff’s calve under the table, lightly, and he smirks as he crunches the vodka-laced celery from his drink. 

“Jeff! Be nice,” she insists and he rolls his eyes, “Well, anyways, I checked it today, and her and Troy are hanging out. Alone, I think.”

“That’s cute, somewhat,” Jeff says with a shrug. Annie purses her lips and taps her manicured nails against her glass, considering. They were flirting through most of the wedding, she thinks they might have even gone off to the same hotel room at the end of it, and she’s yet to decide on how she feels on a Troy and Britta relationship reboot. 

“It would be cute, I mean, if it works out. Troy’s more settled now, since he’s gotten back. But, I’m a bit nervous Britta will . . .”

“Britta it all up?” Jeff supplies and Annie nods with a guilty blush. The group has removed the verb from usage in Britta’s company, but it’s still very much in rotation privately. 

“I want it to work, for both their sakes. Also for the group, in terms of cohesion. Britta is just so . . . uh, up in the air with everything in her life. Since Troy the first time, her longest relationship has been about four and a half months, and she’s been at the bar for  _ forever _ . It’s like she has an aversion to stability,” Annie says, finishing with a huff. 

“She probably does. Not everyone has the proclivity for settling down we do,” Jeff says, leaning to Annie to trace his fingers over her palm, and it sinks into Annie. She has to keep reminding herself that they are married, that they  _ are _ settled, because she still remembers Jeff telling her, when she was a nineteen year old with a pitiable crush, that he would never do this. She clutches his fingers before he pulls back, hoping he can feel her pride in their settlement through her touch. When Jeff leans back in his chair and calls over the waiter for another drink, she hides a groan at her lost moment and catalogues the instance for when she will bring this up later.

“What do we have planned today?” Jeff asks her as they wait for a cab. His breath has a bit of vodka scent on it and Annie knows he’s asking because he’s wondering when they can have sex. Despite any irritations, she is, too. She’s slotted in free time for it.

“I was figuring we could walk around the city before dinner at LeRoux, but we probably don’t need to leave the hotel until five. We can do lunch in our room,” Annie details, eyes set on him and flicking briefly between his lips and the heavy barrel of his chest. Jeff licks across his bottom lip and nods.

“Good for me.”

The drive back to the hotel and even the elevator ride up to the room drag as Annie warms with thoughts of last night, the bar and his cock and his voice. Jeff can make her as weak in her knees now as he did the first time he kissed her, and that feels unfair. After the door has been opened and her purse is set down on the entry table, Jeff presses a kiss to her neck and tells her to ‘give him a minute’ in a low voice that gives her shivers. She waits on baited breath while he enters the bathroom and shuts the door.

Jeff opens it and calls Annie in two minutes later. She’s hot between her legs from the waiting and has to make herself not run to him. She gasps once she makes it over.

“Milady,” Jeff murmurs, gesturing to his display. He’s lit candles -where and when did he get candles, she doesn’t know- and they are dotted along the rim of the jacuzzi tub, which jets gurgle to life in the shallow water rising with the spray of the faucet. He’s also stripped the slightly wilted roses from the day before and sprinkled them about the tub as well as on the bathmat. Finally her eyes land on the champagne he’s holding out to her. Yes, yes, a million times over, this is what Annie’s teenage dreams were of her honeymoon. And even she couldn’t have anticipated Jeff Winger and his muscles in a bathrobe. She takes the offered drink.

“Oh, Milord.” She sips her champagne and it is beyond lovely. 

“Annie,” Jeff hums, low and rich, and pulls Annie to him. She grins unabashedly, “I know that this is just a DoubleTree, and we have much better things in store soon, but with you, it’s . . . fuck, I’m so happy. I love you. God, I really love you.”

Annie knows she must be blushing at his declaration, even if she’s heard it before, and she knocks back some more champagne before setting her glass on the floor and kissing her husband.

Jeff moans into her when her tongue touches against his and she settles on to his lap, scraping her hips up to his. She tingles with the feeling of his erection, which has made its way out from between the folds of his robe. She pulls away and he pouts at her departure. She giggles.

“I have to, you know, match your nakedness,” Annie says, fiddling with the button of her jeans.

“Of course,” Jeff replies and let’s his hand grab hold of his cock. Annie slows for a second to watch him rub himself in slow, through motions before she goes back to stripping even faster.

“Fuck, yeah. You’re fucking beautiful,” Jeff hisses, his hand getting rougher now that she’s down to just her bra and underwear, a matching lilac lace set.

“Jeff,” she sighs and relishes in that he thinks she’s beautiful. She’s unclasping her bra when the smell of burning fabric hits her and her eye catches on the corner of Jeff’s robe, “Jeff!!”

Jeff takes a moment before he notices that his robe is about to go up in flames and yelps upright when he does. 

“Jesus, motherfucking-do something!” he screeches as he simultaneously tries to tug out of the robe and bat the flames away, neither happening quick enough.

“Shit, shit, what do I-” Annie panics, feeling useless and too naked.

She settles on her champagne and tosses it on Jeff at the same time he trips in his desperate flailing over a step and back into the tub, the fling of alcohol landing on his ankles. The flames die in the water, thankfully, but Annie can hear Jeff’s spine make painful contact with the porcelain.

“Jeff?” she calls out and gets no response other than a thick groan. From the way Jeff fell, she doubts his head hit anything, but her heart is punching around with fear and almost ready to fall tears. 

With Jeff silent and his feet hanging limply over the rim of the bath, Annie tosses herself to the bathroom phone and jams down on the button for the front desk.

“Hello? We’ve had an emergency in room 808.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Jeff has never felt so embarrassed. Or old. Or stupid. Or in pain. 

“Jeff?” Annie asks and Jeff opens his eyes with a moan to see her hovering over him, in only her bra and panty set. The smell of smothered smoke stinks up the air. He feels ridiculous, so ridiculous.

“Y-yeah?”

“I called the front desk and they’re going to send a doctor up. Oh, God, Jeff, honey. Do you want to move to the bed?” Annie asks in a drippingly sweet tone. Jeff’s eyes flick away and he chances a shift of position. Sharp knives of pain work their way up his spine and he bites down on his lip. 

“I don’t think I can move yet.”

“Okay,” Annie says, pulling up, and Jeff can see a plan stacking up behind her eyes, “Okay, well, I’m going to get dressed and ready for the doctor. Why don’t you drain the bath? I’ll get you underwear.”

Jeff scans down himself, his soft dick hanging out on his thigh in his now burnt up robe, and he pinches his eyes shut. With a cautious reach, he pulls the stopper on the drain. 

Annie has to help him put on his underwear. Her previous outfit is back on but her hair is disheveled now, ponytail falling slack. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeff mumbles, swallowing around the lump in his throat, as Annie waits not very patiently for the doctor, her foot tapping with aggression against the tile floor. Her brow scrunches up and she turns to him

“For what?”

“Messing up your plans. I don’t know,” he mutters and Annie huffs a shake of her head. It doesn’t stop Jeff from feeling guilty. And old. So, so old. 

The doctor arrives and carefully maneuvers Jeff up and out of the tub. Annie’s worried about a concussion and makes them go through a full check for it, shining lights in his eyes and asking him who the president is. Jeff doesn’t have a concussion, but he has thrown his back out bad enough that the doctor says he shouldn’t leave the bed for the rest of the day. 

“We, um, we have an international flight tomorrow. Will he be able to do that, or should we postpone?” Annie questions, notepad at the ready. Jeff sighs, heavy in his chest. If they postpone, they’ll miss the first two days in London, maybe more, and the beer tasting for him and the show on the WestEnd for her. It will all be on him. He’ll never forgive himself if he ruins this trip, not with how much Annie has worked on getting the itinerary to perfection. The doctor’s mouth twists into a frown and Jeff preps for the worst.

“Mr. Winger should be able to make the flight, though he should be thoroughly medicated throughout. And you should be monitoring him, Mrs. Winger, in case you need to see another doctor once you land.”

Annie nods and jots that all down in shorthand. Jeff is relieved, mostly, for his plan was already to be thoroughly medicated for the flight. He’ll skip his personal pills, though, now, because he doesn’t want Annie to have to deal with whatever reaction he’ll have to the chemical combo of the different drugs.

The doctor writes up a prescription for a heavy dose of painkillers and Annie and him set Jeff up in the bed before she leaves for the nearest pharmacy. 

Jeff flicks on the TV while Annie is gone and keeps it on the news channel it starts on, which is doing a fluffy report on seeing eye dogs. He has pillows layered behind himself so that he can sit moderately comfortably, though there is the occasional stab at his nerves. He doesn’t think that signs exist, but this has to be a signal to him. It’s the splash of water in his face that’s been coming for a while; he’s on his way to being too old for Annie, if he’s not there already. She’s this sexy, brilliant, energetic young woman whose practically made for running around the globe and having crazy hot sex in foreign hotel rooms. He, on the other hand, tweaks his back trying to fuck her in a bathtub. The juxtaposition slaps him, and Jeff has no idea what his next step of action should be. Probably nothing other than wallowing in his own self-pity.

“Here we go,” Annie breezes as she comes into the room shaking a large pill bottle.

“My savoir,” Jeff croaks and winces back the pill with the water she’s handed to him. Annie sits down beside him, rubbing a palm over his blanket-covered legs, and he lets a few of his fingers curl around her waist. He wants a hold on her after his previous spiralling worry. Her mouth forms a soft smile.

“Star Wars?” Annie asks towards the TV. 

“Yeah.” Jeff had switched to it with the movie halfway through already. He thinks it’s  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ .

“I called and canceled at LeRoux. We can order some room service whenever you’re up for it,” Annie says. Jeff's heart plops down to his stomach and he grabs her hand.

“Shit. I’ve messed up two of our meals already. I’m so sorry. I know you were excited about LeRoux.”

“It’s okay. Really, Jeff, please, it’s two dinners out of so many,” Annie tightens her grip on his hand and places herself carefully around him, “Besides, just think about what we have next. Pubs in SoHo, Biergartens in Dresden, handmade pasta in Rome. We have so much ahead of us.”

Jeff pulls one of the sides of his mouth into a half smile. They’ve got more than expensive food in Europe to look forward to, he knows. They’ve got Sunday nights in, his new clients and her new cases, a house to buy once she gets her promotion (Annie thinks she’s about one or two years away from it), day trip adventures, and, if they’re lucky, their fair share of babies. Jeff hopes he’s fit for it all, but he doubts. 

They watch the movie in silence for a while as Jeff’s powerful painkillers kick in, leaving him numb and fuzzy around the edges. A scene of flirty arguing between Han and Leia passes in front of him. 

“Are you doing okay? The pills working?” Annie asks.

“Yeah, yeah, m’good,” Jeff hums and his glance travels across her. She’s worrying her lip between her teeth and not looking at him, which even through his slight pill buzz, he can tell is not great, “Are  _ you  _ okay?”

Annie hesitates and Jeff’s pulse jumpstarts. His hand fumbles for purchase on her thigh.

“Annie?” 

“I-I kissed Abed,” she blurts.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” Jeff’s pulse has gone from racing to stopped, and if he’s about to lose his wife to talking TV Guide, he’s going to freak out on quite a few people. Annie shakes her head fervently. 

“Ah, sorry, um, I mean before you and I were together. Back a while ago, our second paintball game. He was doing his Star Wars, Han Solo bit and we sort of . . . there was a bit of . . . kissing. I don’t know. I think it was cause he was acting like you. The movie reminded me . . .” she trails, looking over to Jeff with nervous, princess eyes and Jeff can’t help but laugh a little at her confession. She sighs, “I’ve never told anyone that, so I figured, you know, we’re married now that I’d-”

“Reveal your deep Abed related secrets?” Jeff snarks. Annie rolls her eyes with a shrug.

“I guess. So do you have any, um, anything you’d like to tell me?” she checks, a coy shift of her eyes. 

“Have  _ I _ ever kissed Abed? No.”

“Jeff!” Annie groans. She presses against Jeff’s shoulder which makes him wince. She squeaks an apology. 

“Idiot,” he chuckles into her hair. He sucks in a breath and gets the scent of her cherry almond conditioner. He gulps, wanting her to know everything, even the mushy, awful stuff. He wonders when that happened.

“I . . . I guess, what I want to tell you is that I’m nervous. About being too old for you. And that I’m, uh . . . I can’t really keep up with you, okay? Even right now, we’re supposed to be out honeymooning and having lots of sex -which I do want to resume as soon as possible, by the way- but instead you’re nursing your old man of a husband.”

“Oh my God, Jeff, will you stop?” Annie says and before he knows it, she’s clutching Jeff’s face between her hands, her body resting just above his hips, “I thought we were over this. You’re not too old for me.”

“But . . .” Jeff stares up at her. Annie’s eyes are focused and set on him with all her gumption. She’s really good at that, at staring at him like he’s the world’s hardest math problem and she will solve him, goddamn it, “I don’t want to hold you back from anything.”

She sighs and softens, shaking her head.

“Trust me. I won’t let you,” Annie delivers him one more look right into his eyes that stuns him. He nods. She pulls off from the top of him, her arms crossing as she does, “And if you want to feel younger, you could be healthier. Maybe . . . um, less drinking, huh?”

“Jesus,” Jeff groans into his palm. This was inevitable, probably, but Annie and him have made it through a year and a half of romantic relations without this discussion, so he had been deluded enough to think it would never come. He’d like to mention he doesn’t drink as much as he did when they first met. Not much less, but less, still. 

“I’ve been noticing it lately. You get a drink with every meal, two or three sometimes. It adds up, Jeff, it adds up.” 

“Annie, I feel like you’re overreacting and if you-”

“No, I’m not! I’m worried about you. I was going to wait until we got home to say something, but if we are going to start a family, I need you to be around for the long haul with a working liver.”

Jeff, against his best efforts, smiles. He’ll cut down to one drink a day, one drink a week, if it’s for them to have kids. He wants it so bad, always has, but it hits differently when Annie’s asking. 

“A family? How soon are you planning that?” Jeff grins and Annie blushes. 

“Pretty soon, I guess. Hence the . . . no condoms. If you’ve noticed,” she says.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve noticed,” Jeff says with a smirk and Annie snorts a laugh, covering her mouth, “and, I’ll try to cut back on the drinking when we get home, okay? I want you to not have to worry about me.”

“Okay, thank you,” Annie replies softly and Jeff is unsure if she believes him or not. He means it, though. It’s gonna suck ass and he’ll probably have scotch withdrawals, but damn, he’ll try for her and whatever mini-Annie’s are on the way. 

“C’mere. Let’s watch some space battles,” Jeff suggests, wanting to change the subject, the air heady from their talk, “We should order something really fancy tonight.”

Annie smiles and nods. 

Jeff insists on caviar, which he is honestly amazed they have at a DoubleTree, because Annie has never had it. She hates it after the first spoonful, but Jeff doesn’t mind the waste, for he can eat the rest and her twisted-up face upon her first taste is too cute. They finish off the champagne that has gone flat since Jeff’s bathtub accident and he tries to picture it as one of his last alcohol ridden hurrahs. 

“Mhmm, thanks. For trying and stuff,” Annie mumbles as Jeff watches her slip between sleep and awake, in her hip hugging tank and shorts pajama set. 

“Thanks for giving me a good reason, baby,” Jeff whispers back, as she’s likely too dazed to remember this tomorrow and call him on his embarrassing sweetness. Annie hums and curls her chest around her pillow. 

Tomorrow, he’s going to be on an over twelve hour flight with massive back pain, possibly watching a movie Abed has selected for them. And Jeff is freaking out. And so happy. And already aggravated. And ready for whatever Annie has planned. He’ll review the schedule she’s typed up on the plane. 

He retraces all it took for him to be this lucky. 

It took letting Annie go. Letting her leave Jeff’s college and his life but not his heart and knowing that, no matter how much it hurt him, they’d both be better for it one day. 

It took getting so lonely and drunk in his office three weeks into Annie being gone that the dean had to shake him awake the morning after he passed out the night before him and tell him to take a day off, a week if he needed, too. Britta cut him off at the bar and tried desperately to psychologize him. Frankie gave him a written up, step by step guide to sobriety, which Jeff followed half-way, enough to get people off his back. 

It took having to not beg Annie to stay the first time she came home. Jeff didn’t even kiss her because he knew that if he did, he’d be completely lost to her. If he wasn’t already. He can’t say for sure. Instead, he spent those ten days soaking up as much Annie as he could, all her giggles and grins and brilliant work stories. He drove her to the airport and, again, wanted to kiss her desperately. Jeff didn’t and, with the sense that their story might have more to it, let her go one more time. 

It took taking a long look at himself in the mirror and asking if he really wanted to be teaching at Greendale College for the rest of his life. He didn’t. So Jeff handed in his resignation to the dean on the last day of spring semester, let the man cry on his shoulder for ten minutes as he promised to text (maybe), and sent in applications to small, local law firms. He got a job at  _ Sanderson & Son Family Law _ after two weeks and has actually enjoyed work ever since.

It took molding and trying and shifting to be the right man for Annie, for himself. It takes still doing that, and doing double if he’s going to be a dad. It takes all he can give and all he can do to be the right Mr. Winger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all reading my crazy midnight ramblings. Please review, and reach out to me on tumblr @hipsterfandomwhatever


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